Mira lived. She lived for forty-seven more years on Earth—forty-seven years as a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a friend, a member of a community that had no idea what she had once been but that knew, somehow, that she was one of them. She and Samuel had children—two daughters, Maya and Leah, who grew up in the apartment with the bookshelves and the window that looked out on the street. They were ordinary children, human children, children who had no magic and who asked no questions about wher...